Note: this is the final installment of my writings from my Southwest Summer Tour in August of 2019.
Totah Theatre
8/24/19: The Totah show killed. There were maybe thirty people in the whole theatre, so not much of a crowd. But everyone in that theatre got the show of a lifetime. The set was as follows:
first set, solo on cigar box guitar: 1) Street Hassle 2) Cigar Box Guitar/Killing the Ego 3) Eminence Front
second set, Shoes! acoustic songs, Austin & Casey: 1) Pac Man Blues 2) The Beautiful Angel 3) Secret 4) Turn Me On 5) Trazodone 6) Hope
second set cont, electric/drum set, Casey & Austin: 7) Desperate Times 9) Broken Girl 10) Pitch Black Blues 11) Grindhouse Blues 12) Kissed a Girl (Katy Perry cover)
third set, electric, Casey, Austin & Pete: 1) October 2) Hollywood & Vine 3) Dance Through the Fire 4) Hope 5) Bleed Out 6) Evocation 7) Clarity 8) Upper Hermosa Mtn Blues
We went through the whole entire spectrum of our sound, from our earliest compositions to our most recent hard rock singles. It was an evening of storytelling, music, and impressive showmanship. Everyone there got it, completely. To stand on the same exact stage that we recorded and performed on fourteen years ago was a total trip; to play the old songs and the new album, slowly working our way up to a huge crescendo of sound and energy, was extremely satisfying. That show, we were on. Pete killed it on bass, I had a feeling that he would. The sounds from my pedalboard and the amplifier were strong and clean and controlled. It was one of the best shows Austin and I have ever played, perhaps the very best. It was a real concert, on a real stage in a real theatre. That’s where we thrive the most, in that element.
Pagosa Springs, Colorado
Pagosa Hot Springs: a haiku
sulfur stench rising
tubs of different temperatures
loosen body, mind
There’s eighteen pools at Pagosa Hot Springs resort and spa, ranging in temperature from 90-110 degrees Fahrenheit. The Animas river flows nearby at around 60 degrees. The sulfur smell of hardboiled eggs permeates the air; even after a shower at the cabin, I can still smell and feel the sulfur on my skin. Might need to take one last Colorado bath before tomorrow’s show.
I’ll be in Las Cruces on Monday, I believe, to see Robin and spend Tues there as well before taking off and heading back to California. I’m looking forward to the alternate driving route through the desert as opposed to the regular old routine of Durango to Northern California.
Sleep has been evasive the past few days; I’ve had to double up on the seroquil for three days now.
Speaking of drugs, another testament to my self-control and inner strength, as well as further proof of my recovery and commitment to sobriety: there is a bottle full of oxycodone in the main bathroom, and a bottle with a few vicodin in it as well. I was looking for sunscreen when the bottles grabbed my attention. I even opened the bottle of oxies and poured them into my hand; they’re so small, tiny; almost cute, really. Then I put them back and didn’t really think twice about them.
I spoke to Austin about how the turning point for me was when I was taking care of my grandmother while she was in hospice. During her last few weeks of life, I was administering liquid morphine to her, as well as liquid Ativan and Norco pills. If there was ever a time to fall back into drug use, that would have been the prime fucking time. So, making my way past that experience gave me an unreal amount of self-control and confidence in my path.
Tomorrow is the last show of the tour; a final farewell show to my almost hometown of Durango, Colorado. I’m expecting the turnout to be tremendous.
8/26/19: 11th St. Station, Durango, Colorado
Last night’s show at 11th St Station, downtown Durango, Colorado.
Friends from elementary school, middle school, high school. My first and second grade teachers, my fourth grade teacher; Marc and his wife Pam and their friends; old school Shoe! fans from the early days. My middle school science teacher, my wrestling coach. Friends and fans and family (not biologically, but close), people I hadn’t seen in over a decade, too many people to count. The show was great: another showcase of the spectrum of my music and sounds; starting solo and looping with the cigar box guitar, regular acoustic, and the lapslide, then the Shoes! songs, and electric set with raw gritty sound harnessed in grunge blues rock.
set one: 1) Street Hassle 2) Thursday (Morphine cover) 3) Killing the Ego/Cigar box guitar 4) Eminence Front 5) Grindhouse Blues 6) Orange Grove 7) Pasadena 8) Desperate Times 9) Broken Girl 10) No Woman No Cry/Soul to Squeeze
set two: 1) Pac Man Blues 2) Secret 3) Turn Me On 4) What I Got (Sublime Cover) 5) Trazodone 6) Hope
set three: 1) October 2) Hollywood & Vine 3) Dance Through the Fire 4) Bleed Out 5)Pitch Black Blues 6) Clarity 7) Desperate Times (amplified) 8) Hope 9) Upper Hermosa Mtn Blues 10) Kissed a Girl (Katy Perry cover)
The significance of this tour cannot be overstated. What I recognized at the end of the whole experience was this: after so many years of running away, I finally came back to where I grew up, as a different, deeper, more understanding person. The love and adoration that I received during this tour had always been there for me — I just lacked the emotional capacity to receive it until now.
Today, a drive through the New Mexico desert to Albuquerque, a quick stop at Frontier for tortillas and a quick meet up with Joseph Ortega, an amazing artist and friend. This part of the day feels reminiscent of Edward Abbey’s The Fool’s Progress: journeying through the southwest, meeting up with artistic and wise friends, on a trek home. After Albuquerque, a three hour drive on cruise control to Las Cruces, where I pull off a long dirt road to Robin’s desert mansion. It’s been ten years almost to the day it seems when I was here with Madeline; the final days of our relationship; sorrow mixed with resolution mixed with a kind of unknown excitement for the uncharted future.
I had no money, no car, no job, no gigs, soon, no girlfriend; I was lost, without direction (ever since I was a kid). But I wasn’t scared. I distinctly remember making a phone call about a car in Denver (Denver of all places, what the fuck?), and asking about the $2k price. It seemed like an astronomical amount of money; an amount unknown to me in my years. I made the call just to feel productive, like I was doing something to get my shit together. I’d lived off of my good looks and charisma for a sustained amount of time, but I don’t like to invest all my stock in that.
Or maybe I don’t give myself enough credit. I have worked, a lot, and I have tried to save money and get my life in order—I just never learned how. No one ever taught me how to save money, or even more importantly, why to save money. No one was there to explain to me how life worked, why life worked the way it did. It was a game, and I had no idea of the rules. I’m just now starting to get it, and I’m thirty two. At age twenty two, I was absolutely clueless. But in retrospect, how could I not have been clueless? If no one shows you how to do something, you have to figure it out yourself, and that often times means that you fuck up until it becomes clear to you. And sometimes, you fuck up for years and years and still never get it right. I feel like, a decade later, I’m starting to get it right.
And what a life this is, right? I just spent three weeks touring the southwest, playing music, exploring, jumping into the river, soaking in different hot springs resorts, eating amazing food, going on hikes, writing and journaling, meditating and working on introspection, staying at my very own private cabin completely free of charge, and making my way to a literal mansion in the desert of southern New Mexico, Las Cruces. Oh, and I also made more money than I spent on this entire tour. Now that is impressive no matter how you look at it.
It’s funny though: I expected a huge surge of memories when I walked into the home, but I felt really balanced and present when I entered, and I haven’t gotten a wave of strong recall at all, even walking through the rooms that I remember so well, that I’ve thought of and visualized over the years. Maybe I’ve just come so far that this is a brand new experience as a brand new person. Maybe the opening that I received from the time in Colorado has given me a new kind of view, a new way to experience my past by not really re-experiencing it; instead, simply recognizing it for what it was while staying rooted in the present moment.
There’s something that Austin hit on earlier, as I was talking about my high school theater experience: I told him that I realized only now that I felt ashamed about what had happened, and Austin said “You realized that you really did care about it.” And that was it: I did care. I cared then, and I care now. I simply didn’t have the guidance or the capacity to understand myself and channel my biological, social, emotional, and psychological challenges into more productive and positive outcomes. It’s nobody’s fault: it’s not even my own. Of course I take responsibility for my actions; I own up to the past, come what may from it, but I had no resources to do things differently. I had to go the way that I went, and only because it brought me to where I am now. This realization is another source of some profound closure—there’s forgiveness here, but not only from those around me; the emphasis here is on self-forgiveness.
8/28/19
Las Cruces, New Mexico.
Driving through desert landscapes, meditative and silent, the warm drone of the car cruising along the highway at a steady speed.
Woke up at 6:30 am, an insane time for me, but I wanted to be able to meditate and drink some coffee with Robin before we went to the 8:30am yoga class. Took a class, the practice taking me into its embrace after a few weeks of pause. Go out to a coffee shop with Robin; the whole time we’re talking. She’s really amazing, I love talking with her; I always have.
Robin drives us home; she leaves for an appointment, and I drive back into town.
I take the noon yoga class as well, then shop at a few bookstores. Head back and eat lunch with Robin at the house, meditate out in the sun, the front of my body is darker, and my shoulders are peeling badly: the shirtless trek towards the top of Hermosa Mountain, though eventually abandoned, still proved to be quite effective in scorching my shoulders.
One in the morning here now; feeling a bit tired, as I’ve been up since 6:30am. Maybe I’ll try to get up at seven or eight, try to instill a kind of regulated wake schedule that precedes ten am. I guess we’ll see.
Two more yoga classes tomorrow and then I take off early Thursday morning and hightail it up to Northern California, where it’s back to teaching, playing music, learning, etc.
Thunderstorms tonight as Robin and I drive to get ice cream: the sky is fevered with flashes of electricity in the dark ocean of clouds on the desert horizon. Hot days here; over one hundred and four degrees today, yesterday was 107. The heat is bright and blinding and brilliant, the inside of an oven.
9/4/19
Writing this out as I sit at the table in the dining area of my house back in California, a bottle of water and a cup of hot tea sit at my right and left respectively. I’ve had some time to adjust back to the rhythm and flow of my everyday California life; teaching feels better than ever; paying shows continue to flow in, I’m back to practicing six yoga classes a week and teaching six or seven; running errands, practicing tm, deepening my awareness of the present moment. So now, let’s go back at my final night in Las Cruces.
I took a yoga class at noon with Robin again, and we went out for Mexican food at El Sombrero, a place I had gone with Maddie, a favorite spot of hers. Robin won’t let me pay for lunch.
“Nope,” she says. “And you’re not going to pay tonight, either.” We’ve made plans to go to a restaurant called the Double Eagle, a fine dining restaurant in an old Spanish mansion that Robin’s father helped renovate twice. We go home and I fall asleep, wake up the following morning, Robin makes me coffee and some lunch for the drive. We embrace, and I leave. My time with her was so wonderful.
The drive home from Las Cruces was long and nearly unbearable. If the drive out to Colorado felt like a single hour, the drive back felt like 17 long, LONG hours (which is what it was). There was traffic, turnarounds, a road block . . . I arrived back in Cupertino around 3:45am, and fell asleep almost instantly.
The first two or three days back, I felt a kind of repressed internal tension that was both mental and physical. It was reminiscent of violent and dramatic mood swings; moments of intense frustration and rage. I feel now that this was the process of readapting to my environment in the world of the bay area. To return from three weeks of serene simplicity in the intimate depths of mother nature; rivers, mountains, hot springs, silence, stillness, traveling and music—to the rushing unceasingly frantic technologically driven hustle of Silicon Valley . . .
But I’ve settled back into my groove now, and the trip is over. What a long, beautiful, profoundly moving and inspirational trip it has been.